Chapter Five: Over Supper and Eavesdropping
Blakeney's eyes widened at the Doctor's request. "Sir?"
Dr. Maturin gave a small smile at the boy, and nodded. "Yes Blakeney, I want you to be the one to handle this."
"But... If I may say so, sir, it is only giving her supper. Shouldn't the other men do it?"
"That is the point." Dr. Maturin paused thoughtfully, and then took off his glasses; cleaning the lenses with a piece of cloth he always kept nearby. "While I do not doubt the integrity of the men, I really do not trust how they can handle Lady di Salmileri at this point in time. Their manner is rough, and not given to subtlety. And the last thing I wish to do right now is to rile her up further."
He sighed as he put aside the cloth, and slid his glasses back into place. "You, on the other hand, I can trust to be tactful. You will know how to handle her, more or less, should the need arise."
Blakeney nodded his head slightly. Though he felt rather flattered that the Doctor would put such trust in him, he did feel a bit...perhaps frightened was the word. He had watched as the woman whom Dr. Maturin called Lady di Salmileri went into a violent tirade after she had recovered from her heatstroke. When she swore in English, he could not help but blush at the colorful and expansive vocabulary that she employed. He remembered some of the lower deck men grinning and chuckling to themselves at some of her words, perhaps understanding their implication in more ways than one.
Dr. Maturin patted him on the shoulder, rousing him from his thoughts. "Now, off you go. It is not polite to keep a lady waiting for her supper."
Blakeney nodded obediently, and took the tray that was laid on the table. He exited the tent, and headed to the one where Dr. Maturin said Lady di Salmileri was resting.
Somehow, the title "Lady" did not seem to suit the woman that they had encountered while exploring the island earlier that day. His mother was most assuredly one, and he had several aunts and cousins who were duchesses or countesses in their own rights. The way Lady di Salmileri was acting certainly showed that she was not one - or perhaps, had been raised in the wrong way.
His steps slowed somewhat as he approached the lady's tent. He glanced briefly at the two Marines posted on either side of the flap, and spoke up. "Excuse me...?"
He heard the rustle of bedclothes, and then a soft rumbling sound. This was followed by silence, and then a rather groggy voice asked: "What is it this time?"
Blakeney winced slightly at that, but responded nevertheless. "Erm... I've come to bring you supper, at Dr. Maturin's request."
This was greeted by silence, and then: "Oh, okay. Come on in."
Blakeney nudged the tent flap out of the way, and stepped into the space within. It was rather dim, considering that the only light sources were a candle on the table that had been pulled up close to the bed, and a lamp in the farthest end of the tent, but it was enough for him to see by.
The woman from that morning was sitting on the cot to his right. She was sitting up, her head in her hands, her elbows braced on the tabletop, and her hair falling all around her face like a dark curtain. She looked up as he came closer, and her face had a puffy look to it that indicated she had only just woken up.
He glanced away then, knowing that it was rude to stare. "Dr. Maturin says that you should eat, and get your strength up. He will come by later on tonight to talk to you."
"Mmm," the woman responded. She sat up, and raised her arms over her head, stretching. "Okay. And thanks for bringing me dinner." She looked at him, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Who are you, by the way?"
He bowed slightly in response, unsure as to what to do around her. "My name is William Blakeney, Lady di Salmileri."
She snorted then. "Oh please, don't call me that."
He looked up at her, blinking. "Do not call you what?"
"Lady." She combed her fingers through her hair as she spoke, as if trying to get the tangled strands into some form of order. "I spent nearly all of my adult life trying to escape that title, and the last thing I want to hear is to be called that."
"Then...then what should I call you?"
"Mercy. Just call me Mercy." She glanced at the free stool on the opposite side of the table, and then looked back at him. "Are you supposed to do anything for anyone right after you bring me supper?"
Blakeney shook his head in response.
"Then why don't you come here and sit with me? It gets boring after a while, being alone all the time, and I'm not in the mood to start talking to myself."
Blakeney smiled at her little joke, and accepted the invitation. He sat down in the stool across the table from her, and waited for her to speak.
He watched as she ate, and realized that maybe; Dr. Maturin wasn't that far off the mark when he called her a lady. She cut the meat in such a manner as to come off elegant, with an ease that told him she had been taught how to do this since she was a child.
She put down her fork and knife, sipped from the cup of water that he had brought for her, before she finally glanced at him. "How old are you?"
Blakeney blinked at her question, and blurted out the answer in the manner he had been taught a long time ago. "I am twelve (1), ma'am - I mean, Miss Mercy."
"Twelve? Only?"
"Yes."
She leaned back, one eyebrow going arching upwards as she crossed her arms - a manner that reminded Blakeney of the Captain at times. "Don't you think that's a little too young to be a midshipman? Or even in the Navy at all?"
He shook his head. "Oh no, it's not too young. There are others who are younger than I am on the Surprise. Some of the cabin boys, down in the lower decks, are as young as five or six." He smiled shyly. "My father would have had me in the Navy when I was sooner, but my mother did not want to let me go."
"Five or six?" Mercy shook her head, and muttered something about "illegal child labor" under her breath. After a few moments, she looked up, and gave a rueful smile upon seeing his puzzled gaze. "Sorry, don't mind me. Just used to voicing my thoughts out all the time, that's all."
"If you do not mind me saying so," Blakeney began, blushing a little as he proceeded, "everyone knows that you are used to speaking whatever is on your mind - even to the Captain."
She blinked. "Huh? Why do you- Oh." She laughed, and shook her head. "You mean that thing that happened earlier today, right?"
Blakeney nodded his head, glad that she seemed to be amused instead of annoyed that he had brought up the incident.
She laughed again, and waved her hand, leaning forward towards the table. "Sorry that you had to hear all of that," she said, her eyes twinkling in such a cheerful manner that Blakeney could not help but smile at her. "I tend to do that a lot." She rolled her eyes. "My brother Alec tells me that I have a very foul mouth on me, but do I look like I care? No!"
Now Blakeney laughed, watching as she sipped some of the broth and nibbled on a piece of bread. "Don't your parents get angry when they hear you?"
She shook her head, and she seemed to sober up a little. "Both my parents are dead. My mother died when I was twelve - a boating accident in Lake Como. My father, on the other hand, died of consumption when I was twenty." She smiled at him reassuringly then. "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago, and I've moved on. I still remember them, sure, but hey, I think they'd prefer it if I went on with my life and did something with it rather than moping all the time thinking about them. No need to add another ghost to the palazzo."
"You live in a palazzo?"
"Yeah, in one of the islands just outside Venice (2). I share it with my brother, Alec, and my best friend, Ami. We stay there most of the time, but sometimes, when we feel like it, we take a trip up to Tuscany and stay in the villa there, especially during the summer."
Blakeney grinned. He had heard of the grandeur and beauty of Venice, and how Napoleon had taken over and given it to the Austrians (3). Now, here was someone who could tell him what it was like - before the Austrians had taken over.
"What is Venice like?"
"Is it true, then, that St. Mark's Cathedral has one of the most magnificent choirs?"
"Oh, that's true, completely true. I am not sure just how familiar you are with music, but it was in Venice that the polychoral style was developed. That's a really, really grandiose type of choral music, using several different choirs all at once, singing different parts of a song. It forms layer upon layer of voices and melodies, making a rich and complex sound."
Stephen had to smile as he stood outside the tent, listening in to the conversation that Blakeney and Mercy were having.
It is quite amazing that she has such patience for the child, he thought, amused. Mercy had certainly not come off as the type of woman with patience for the constant questioning of a child, but she had just proven him quite wrong. Yet it was a pleasant mistake, he now found, as it showed another side of her that, he believed, she would not just show to anyone - even to him.
That was, he supposed, the most interesting thing about her. She could be hard and cold as adamant when she wanted to, but on other occasions she had a softer and - dare he say it - sweeter side to her that shone through. He had caught a glimpse of it that afternoon, when he had put her to bed. Now he was seeing it - or rather, hearing it - as she spoke to Blakeney.
"Hmm. So the she-devil does have another side to her after all."
"Indeed, Mr. Allen. I am surprised that she has not used a single swear word in the last few minutes or so."
Stephen looked over his shoulder, and saw Allen, Mowett, and Pullings standing nearby. He raised an eyebrow at them. "It is not polite to eavesdrop, gentlemen."
Allen grinned at him. "If I may say so, sir, I do not think you are in a position to say that, considering that you, too, are eavesdropping."
Stephen smiled. "Well, yes, I suppose I am." He glanced back to the flap of the tent, which was moving around in the soft breeze. "Still, I am quite surprised to see this...other side of her."
"We all are, Doctor," Pullings said. He paused a moment, and then said: "You know, once she has stopped swearing, she actually sounds rather agreeable."
Mowett elbowed Pullings in the ribs. "Hush there, Tom! She's nothing like the wenches back in Portsmouth, you know. She's a decent, educated young woman; she has no need of your 'tricks'."
"You call a woman who can swear like that 'decent'?"
"If you boys are finished listening in, maybe you'd like to come in and talk to me face-to-face?"
Stephen and his companions immediately stiffened, their voices dropping to silence almost immediately. Had they been that loud?
He heard footsteps softly padding towards the entrance of the tent, and he frowned. He had given her clear instructions that she was to keep off her feet.
It was Blakeney's face, however, that appeared in the entryway as the tent flap was lifted. The midshipman smiled at all of them, and gestured to the interior of the tent.
Stephen returned the smile with one of his own, before he walked past the boy and into the tent. As he had hoped, Mercy was sitting on the bed, her feet set on the floor, but with no weight on them. The bowl of stew that he had sent over for her supper was now empty, though the bread was only half-eaten.
She raised her eyebrow slightly at him as he entered. "You know, I never took you for the type of guy who would listen in on a woman's conversation."
Stephen smiled ruefully. "Forgive me, my dear. I am a scientist, and I am, by nature, very curious." He glanced at the others, and smirked. "I do not, however, know what these gentlemen have as an appropriate excuse."
Mercy glanced at Pullings, Mowett, and Allen, rolled her eyes, and waved her hand. "Who cares? Just looking at you I know that you don't have a good excuse, so there's no use getting angry over it."
Allen chuckled, and bowed. "I hope that you will forgive us, regardless. The Captain told us to see if you were well."
She snorted in a most unladylike fashion. "Yeah, sure he was. He wanted you to make sure that I hadn't escaped somehow and reported to the French - as if I could walk with my feet in this condition." Here she gazed in an annoyed manner at her feet.
Stephen sighed, and shook his head. She would not be taken for a fool, that much was certain.
She tilted her chin up slightly, her gaze skimming over all of them. "So, why'd you all come here?"
It was Pullings who responded. "We are here to discuss that Frenchman you are chasing: Romelien, if I am not mistaken?"
Mercy nodded, and Stephen noticed how her countenance became colder, harder. It was only then that he truly understood: she was not merely some young woman with more arrogance than was necessary. She was indeed a soldier in her own way, and one who was used to being in difficult situations.
He tried to imagine those eyes of hers, which had suddenly become dark and unfathomable, glaring at him from behind a rifle, and realized that it was not that difficult an image to come up with.
He turned to Blakeney, noticing the confusion in the boy's eyes. He smiled kindly at him, and nodded towards the tent flap. "Go and have supper now, Blakeney."
Blakeney glanced first at him, then at the officers, and then finally at Mercy, whose gaze was still calm and chilling. With a soft murmur of "Yes, sir," he exited the tent, leaving the officers, Stephen, and Mercy alone.
(1) I have corrected the age here, in light of information that Philrya left in her review. According to her, Blakeney is twelve years old in Master and Commander. Again, thank you Philrya for the information.
(2) It is known for a fact that there are many small islands scattered around the vicinity of Venice, and some of these, at one point or another, were known to have been occupied. I am not quite certain whether or not there are still islands with palazzos on them that are still occupied, but let us simply assume, for the sake of creative license, that such things still do exist in the present day and age.
(3) After Napoleon conquered Venice, he handed it over to Austria, becoming a part of the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia when Napoleon signed the Treaty of Campo Formio on October 12, 1797. It was during the following year, on January 18, 1798, that the Austrians officially moved in to occupy La Serenissima. However, Venice was taken out of Austrian control by the Treaty of Pressburg (which was signed on December 26, 1805), and was made a part of Napoleon's Kingdom of Italy, starting from 1805 until Napoleon's defeat in 1814. Since the movie takes place early in 1805, then Blakeney would naturally assume that Venice is still under Austrian, and not French, control.
NOTE ON EDIT:
Philrya told me Blakeney's true age, and I have corrected this chapter accordingly. Many thanks, Philrya.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
Philrya – Ah, it is such a comfort to find a fellow Filipino in this fandom – even if you are, as you say, only half-Filipino. Which side of your family is Filipino: mother's side or father's side? At any rate, thank you for taking the time to read and to review my story, and good luck with learning how to speak Filipino.
ArcherofDarkness – Mercy's feet will recover soon. Maturin is an excellent doctor, and as long as Mercy obeys his orders, they will be fine. And yes, Napoleon is a very interesting person…though one certainly must wonder if his desire to establish an empire was because he felt insecure about his height…
TheMusingFit – Thank you for the kind review. Yes, Mercy's personality does indeed border on arrogance, but she has had need of it from time to time. Confidence in oneself – but not overconfidence – is necessary to survive dangerous situations, and considering the nature of Mercy's job, she does need quite a bit of trust in herself. Sometimes, when in non-dangerous situations, that confidence can manifest as arrogance, as was the case in the previous chapter.
Miss Flossy – Once again, thank you for the kind review. Yes, Mercy does have a very foul mouth on her, but she is not normally like that. And yes, Mercy's name is indeed a long one. It does not surprise me, though since she is from the nobility, and there is a tendency for long names in the nobility, if I am not mistaken. Oh, and certainly, she will end up as putty in someone's hands – but of course, I am not going to say just whose hands those are just yet.
With regards to Abbotsleigh Park, I must say that the conclusion was lovely, and just what I had hoped. Mowett is a bastard, and he deserved what Madeleine did to him, but oh, the way they made up certainly exceeded all expectations. And…wild love in the stables? Hmm…quite suitable, if I may say so.
Finally, the idea regarding Mr. Howard and Mercy's pistols has made an interesting image come into mind, which I may make use of in a future chapter. Thank you for the suggestion.
Kontara – Thank you for the compliment.
Galatyn Renner – Thank you for taking the time to review all the chapters that I have posted thus far. Very few people have the patience to do so. Most of the time they simply review everything in one go.
I am glad that you consider my interpretations of the canon characters appropriate. That is a constant worry in my mind, particularly where it concerns Aubrey and Maturin. Again, thank you for your reviews.